Where I stand
by shi-chan
Summary: YAOI ItaIru He left so sudden. He left without telling Iruka anything. Now Iruka wonders where he really stands, and if he should continue hoping for his return. EDITED


ItaIru. Enough said.

Dango- a type of sweet made from beans. It's the pink, yellow and green ball-things on a stick.

EDIT - Changed all NATTO to DANGO. Sorry about the mistake.

**WHERE I STAND**

He sank himself lower in the bathtub, thoughts drifting like a river in his mind. The soapy smell of bath soap filled the steamy bathroom, the clean scent clinging on to his wet body. His head was tilted back slightly and leaning against the cool tiled walls. There was a slight blush on his cheeks from the warmth of the water. He was tired. It had been an extremely long day and he just got home in the unholy hour to twelve-twenty AM. He taught in the morning, gave chuunin-graduates theoretical training till early evening and fore there he did his daily rounds of report filing. By the time he left the office building, his eyes were so dry that everything seemed to have gone blurry.

His eyes were glazed with suppressed sadness, unseeing, dead. Months have passed since Sasuke woke up from his healing sleep. It had caused quite a ruckus with his teammates' emotions. Naruto had punched him hard, yelled, and cried and embraced him tightly, not caring for those around him. Sakura cried from sheer relief and happiness, not acting quite as violent as Naruto did. She couldn't make herself move from her spot for several long minutes and when she finally did, she hugged Sasuke, her tears a sign of her joy for his recovery. Kakashi had given him a pat on the shoulder and ruffled his hair in affection, ignoring the half-hearted scowl Sasuke threw at him. He didn't hear of Sasuke's recovery until his classes ended when Naruto bustled down the hall in a frenzy of excitement, against the throng of academy students, shouting the good news. He left right away for the hospital, saw the conscious boy, pale but alive, and felt the heavy weight on his chest lift, only to have it come slamming down twice as hard when he left the hospital. Dread. But he told himself to think positive, and so taking the good news to heart, he returned to his daily duties, with a light skip in his step, if one looked close enough.

He was happy. He'd go home, tell _him_ the good news and maybe stop by the sweet shop and fetch some of those_dangos_ that _he_ really liked.

Yet, amidst all the happy relief was the lingering dread. Stacking reports after reports, the smile on his face was slowly turning in to a forced one. Still, he left the office and bought a small box of _dangos_, His walk home was a slow one, and his face lost all traces of the day's happiness. He was hesitant to open his own door and when he did, darkness and emptiness greeted him. Sadness gripped him so strong that he walked about like a lifeless being, quite amazed that his legs didn't give away yet. He set the_dangos_ on the coffee table in his living room and headed for the bedroom. It was empty, and he wondered why he was expecting any more. He didn't sleep that night and couldn't for the next few days.

The first day off he got he spent it cleaning his house, scrubbing, dusting, polishing, washing – everything! Yet still, even after using a good amount of different cleaning agents, the smell was there. He didn't know if it was his senses getting desperate or not, but it felt like _he_ was there. After cleaning on two weekends straight, he gave up trying to get rid of it. Instead, he clung to it, embraced it, and valued it. Every night, after work, without fail, he bought a small box of _dangos_, left it on the coffee table over night and ate it in the morning before leaving for work.

He shifted in the bathtub, the steam already settled, the water chilly. He pulled the drain, rinsed any remaining soapsuds and dried himself off. He didn't have any classes the next day and he only had report filing to do in the early afternoon till sunset. He pulled on a pair of old cotton gray pants, ran a comb through his hair and sat on his living room couch, draping an arm around the armrest, curling on one side, staring at the small box of_dangos_ on the table.

This was his weekend routine.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

He woke up at three AM on an autumn evening, feeling warm and too comfortable. Puzzled, he cracked his eyes open and found a blanket over his shirtless frame and a pillow cradling his head. His eyes automatically fell on the table and found the box of_dangos_ empty, the lid upturned beside it, the three sticks lying inside, clean. He was suddenly wide-awake and sat up cautiously. He did not remember taking a blanket and pillow from his room. Like any normal person, he became alert and felt alarmed.

He flicked all the lights on, searching his home thoroughly. Nothing was out of order, save for the pillow, blanket and missing _dangos_. He shook his head and approached his living room window, hands leaning against the aluminum frame, staring at the dark streets of his quiet neighborhood.

Then the lights went out and a voice spoke from behind him.

"Iruka-san."

His grip on the window frame tightened, knuckles turning white. He forgot to breathe for a while, as he caught the faint reflection on his window as to who was standing behind him. He forced the lump on his throat down. "This is a surprise." Releasing the grip on his window frame, he turned and faced the cloaked figure, eyes glazed with so much suppressed sadness and hurt. "Itachi." His 'guest' did not reply. It's been what, ten months? He tried to speak calmly, and gave him a polite smile. "To what do I owe such a visit?" Itachi blinked and took a step forward, tilting his head to one side slightly and reached out to touch his cheek with his open palm. Iruka turned his head away. "No. Please, don't."

Hurt crossed the Uchiha's eyes, but he dropped his hand. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Iruka whispered, keeping his gaze on the ground.

"Iruka-san." His voice was soft, hurt. Iruka had to look up. "Please." He stepped forward. "Don't say that."

"I expected too much. I wanted too much. It was foolish of me." Iruka said, shaking his head, taking a step back to maintain a food four feet between them. But Itachi stepped forward, closing in on him, until he pressed against the wall beside his window.

"Don't _speak_ like that." His voice was now tight, annoyed, angry, and sad. So Iruka kept quiet, staring at the ground. "You're hurt."

"Stop it."

"I hurt you."

He clenched his fist. "Stop."

"I'm sorry." It sounded genuine, coming from those lips.

"Shut up!" Iruka snapped. "Please. Leave. I – I can't handle this. It's been almost a year. Why – Why now? Just go! Please." He dipped his head lower. "Please, Itachi. Leave me."

"I'm here now. Isn't that what you want?" He asked, softly, taking another step closer, face inches away from Iruka's.

"Not like this." Iruka tried to step around him, but arms planted him firmly on the wall, the hands digging in to the skin of his shoulders, hurting him. "Understand me, Itachi. I cannot go on hoping that you'd stay or come back. You can't keep coming here. You're a dead man if you get caught."

"You won't tell anyone." Itachi said, the sentence sounding a little bit desperate.

"No." Iruka shook his head and winced a bit at the hold. "But I don't want false hope either. I have to move on. And so do you."

Kiss planted firmly against his lips, tongue caressing the lower lip softly, almost shy. "I want you. " He said, moving back just enough so that he can speak. "Only you."

"Don't say things like that." Iruka said, and placed his hands on his cloaked chest, pushing him back slightly. "It only hurts more."

"Why?" He asked, lips parted, dark eyes glazing.

"Because you'll leave and I am left not knowing where I stand. I can't handle that. So stop saying things you don't mean." He said, and stepped around him to stand anywhere but in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"I meant my words." He said firmly, getting annoyed, eyes giving him the 'why are you so stubborn' look. "Why would I not?"

"I don't know." Iruka faced him, eyes narrowed. "Why would you? Why – Why would you want someone like me?"

Itachi stared at him for a while, brows knitted. "I don't know." He answered, and it was honest. "I just do."

Iruka shook his head, smiling in amusement. "Leave Itachi. Leave before someone catches you here." Itachi grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, tilting his head up just a bit and kissed him, selfishly, hungrily, passionately.

"This is not goodbye." He whispered and took a few steps back, vanishing in a cloud of chakra smoke.

He still bought _dangos._

He still left them on the table every night.

The only change now is that when he wakes up, he'd find the box empty.

And for now, he's content with what little he has and got.

It's enough.

He knows where he stands.

**FIN**

O.o

Inspired by the ItaIru RP me and my muse Kagaya are playing. Story behind is that Itachi comes to Iruka (long time crush I think) and a short relationship forms. This is my take on how the relationship goes since Itachi can't really stay in Konoha and stuff. Just random blabbing story, no meaning at the mo', but I thought I'd post it.

Oh and Sasuke was forcefully brought back from Orochimaru to Konoha by Itachi. He kinda' stayed with Iruka whil waiting for Sasuke to come out from his coma.

We're still RP-ing, so this is just one of the possible endings to it.


End file.
